I've been diagnosed with depression since I was a teenager, too. This is part of the battle. And I'm in the final stages of cancer treatment; the interferon I'm on makes these passages worse. Part of my current passage is me wondering what kind of faith, if any, I have. Hard to think clearly when depression is hovering. Part of the deception of depression, for me, is figuring out when it's wielding its influence, and when it's just honestly me struggling. There is a difference.
Why don't I just walk away from faith? I can't. I love Jesus Christ. And I love people. (Woops, guess that's two sticky wickets.) And creation. And, ultimately, this is where my faith comes down: I do not naturally love anyone. Something changed in me in April 2000. Fifteen people would give 15 different explanations for what that was, but I would be the 16th.
Right now, I feel bruised, aching, despairing. I cry out for Jesus, knowing how completely unworthy I am of the least of His sympathies.
1 comments:
Love covers a multitude of sins. Maybe what passes for perfection in our minds isn't really perfection. Maybe imperfect love goes a longer way toward achieving perfection than perfection itself does. Or something like that...
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